


An Indirect Embrace

by Priestlyislove



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Awkwardness, Blushing, First Dates, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Height Differences, M/M, Motorcycles, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Sharing Clothes, a very pleasant maybe-date with a side of froyo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 20:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13197636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Priestlyislove/pseuds/Priestlyislove
Summary: Monty and Carl go on an almost-date





	An Indirect Embrace

Monty had been waiting for his dad forty minutes longer than he promised he’d be. He was beyond impatient at this point. But he still waited, because a little time with his dad was better than no time at all.

Monty didn’t notice him at first, but he looked up when the sound of footfall finally registered in his brain. Carl was walking over to him, and the only thought Monty was capable of thinking was _shoulders_. Carl was not in his usual work getup, wearing a thin white tank top that hung on his little frame like it was two sizes too big. His body was bony and small and, most notably, covered in freckles. Monty wondered if Carl had ever tried to count all of them. Maybe he’d let him try.

“Hey, Carl,” he put on a friendly smile and waved. He then motioned to his own torso, “You’re not wearing your little lab coat thing?”

Carl glanced down at himself, as if he had forgotten what he was wearing. It was cute. “Oh, yeah,” he snorted, “it was a work incident.” He glanced up at Monty, biting his lip. “Speaking of which…”

Monty tried to hide his disappointment. He already had a feeling his dad was going to ditch him, but it still didn’t feel great. But it wasn’t Carl’s fault, and he didn’t want him to feel guilty for having to be the bearer of bad news. “Yeah, I know. It’s cool. I wanted to go get froyo anyway. You free?”

“Me?” Carl squeaked, pointing a finger at his chest.

Monty laughed. “Yeah, you. Don’t want to bother you while you’re on the clock, but it’s kinda lame to get froyo by yourself.”

“No! No, no, no!” Carl said quickly, adjusting his glasses. “I’m free! I’m done for the day! I just thought you might want to go with someone…” he rocked on the balls of his feet, “ _cooler_.”

Monty quirked his unibrow playfully. “What are you talking about, Carl? You’re cool.”

Carl tried to laugh it off, but his face was turning firetruck red at the compliment. “Try telling that to my college class. Or my high school class. Or elementary. Or even preschool.”

“I get the picture.” Monty stopped him from going any further. “I think they’re totally wrong, but whatever. You coming or not?”

“I’d love to,” Carl grinned toothily. His teeth were a little crooked, which just made his smile seem brighter. Monty was a little surprised at the inference that he never had braces, however, since he could totally picture a little Carl with them. He could see current Carl with them too. “Do you have a ride? Because you’re free to join me on my bike, I’ve got extra helmets.” Carl motioned for him to follow.

Monty and Carl had never had a lot of one on one time. They saw each other around a lot because of his dad, and Monty had always found him cute (he had a thing for nerdy guys), but he didn’t know a lot about him. He was a little excited to talk to him outside of his crazy workplace.

Monty tried to spot Carl’s bike in the garage, but he didn’t see anything the guy could possibly ride. No bicycles at all, for that matter. Carl opened the garage door. He handed him a helmet and then walked over to a sleek black motorcycle, pulling out his keys like it was no big deal.

“Wait, that one is _yours_?” Monty could not hide his absolute shock.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” He wasn’t as shocked, but Monty realized this was a ridiculous observation. Of course Carl would know what type of bike he rode. “I know statistically they’re more dangerous than cars, but for some reason it makes me less anxious to drive these. I guess the controls just feel a lot more hands on?” He shrugged.

“And you were trying to say you weren’t cool,” Monty teased as he walked over. His eyes were glued to those freckled shoulders again, so he unzipped his hoodie, revealing the stylishly worn out band t shirt he had on underneath it, and draped it over Carl. “It’s too cold out for you to ride with nothing covering your arms.”

“I’ll be fine, you’re the one who should keep this on,” Carl argued, chivalrous enough to freeze for him.

“I’ll be sitting behind you, so the wind won’t be as bad. The place isn’t far from here anyway.” Monty reasoned, putting his helmet on. Carl slipped the hoodie on over his undershirt and put on his own helmet. Once Monty was situated behind him, arms wrapped firmly around his waist, he took off.

The wind did nip at his bare skin, but being pressed against Carl like this made his heart race fast enough to keep him warm. He was so skinny Monty felt like he could wrap his arms around him twice. But he rode seamlessly, and Monty found himself impressed. This was a side to Carl he had no idea existed.

Carl found a parking spot and pulled over. He slipped off his helmet, curly hair springing back into place. Monty wondered if he put any gel or spray in it, or if he just left it how it was when he woke up. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who put a lot of time into his appearance, considering his fraying shoes and clunky purple glasses. As Monty took off his helmet, he tried with limited success to smooth his hair back down. He caught Carl staring and flashed him a smile, causing his eyes to dart away and his face burn red.

“Come on, let’s go in.” Monty opened the door, keeping it propped open with his shoulder so Carl could enter first. The place was colorful, a modern design aimed to appeal to his age group and under. The chairs were all oddly shaped and could rotate, which one little girl in the corner was abusing horribly, to the dismay of her mother. The atmosphere was always lively, and for a group that loved to complain, Monty and his friends had decided the place was fine how it was.

Carl followed him over to the counter, looking a little overwhelmed. “You go this way first?” He asked quietly, like it was some kind of secret. It was obvious he had never been here. Most frozen yogurt places followed a similar structure, so he probably had never been to any. He really needed to get out more. Monty could help him with that.

“Yeah, you pay by weight, so you get to build it first.” Monty explained patiently. He grabbed a cup and motioned with it, lifting his fingers off the paper, “You can mix whatever flavors you want, but those buttons will swirl the two in the machine together. I recommend blueberry and chocolate. I know it sounds weird, but it's actually really good together.”

Carl grabbed a cup and placed it under one of the valves, trying to line it up right so he wouldn't spill. Monty cracked a smile. He did everything with such precision. Carl slowly pressed it, letting out a surprised “oh!” when the yogurt started pouring out. Once he was satisfied, he looked at Monty, “and which chocolate did you suggest? There's like four different ones.”

Monty laughed, “yeah, but I think chocolate’s chocolate no matter what. I usually get that one.” He pointed again. Carl went over to it, and Monty let his attention drift from him long enough to fill up his own cup. Once they were done with that, Monty led him over to the toppings. Carl’s eyes went wide. Monty noticed and slapped a hand on his back, “See something you like, buddy?”

“I've never seen that many gummy bears in my entire life.” Carl whispered to him, leaning his face in closer but not taking his eyes off the sweets. He was standing up on his tiptoes. Carl was a year or two older than Monty, but still so much smaller. He probably wasn’t going to grow much more. Not that Monty minded.

“Well, go nuts, I'm buying.” Monty gave his back a friendly pat.

Carl snapped out of his sugar induced daze. “What? I can't let you do that.”

Monty assured him, “Don't worry, it's super cheap. I wanted to hang out with you, the least I can do is buy the ‘gurt.”

Carl covered his mouth as he snorted. “Did you just call it _gurt_?”

“Well now I have to pay, so I can also pay for my crimes against the English language.” Monty gave him a little push, both metaphorically and literally. That was really all the encouragement Carl needed. Monty was fairly certain he ended up with more gummy bears than frozen yogurt. But he seemed thrilled about it, so Monty didn’t say anything.

When they were done and Monty had paid the girl working the register (she was sweet-peppiness that bordered on annoying, but was required for this kind of work atmosphere) they made their way over to an empty table. Carl tested the elasticity of the cushion with a few bounces and finished his experimentation by spinning his seat in a complete circle.

Monty had been carrying the spoons and used a single smooth motion to stick one spoon in Carl’s mess and take a bite of his own with the other. Being a rebellious and careless teen, he was a fan of junk food, but he really loved frozen yogurt. It was creamy enough that you could mistake it for ice cream, but tangy enough that you didn’t forget it was something unique. Something that was really special that blended into the backdrop, something most people would pass up without a second thought, never really seeing it.

“Oh wow,” Carl said through a mouthful of delicious goop. “This is amazing.”

Monty chuckled, “I knew you’d like it!”

“You-“ He paused to swallow. Without thinking, he took another bite, and then had to wait until he swallowed that too. “You were right about the blueberry and chocolate. I was all ready to tell you what a bad mix it was, but I judged too quickly.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to judge a froyo on its flavors?” Monty asked playfully, swirling his spoon in his cup between bites.

“I guess not.” Carl looked at him a couple seconds longer than what would be considered casual. He had a wry little smile on his face and Monty almost got an air of smugness from it.

“Wanna try some of mine? It’s pineapple and strawberry,” Monty wiggled his spoon enticingly. He was mostly joking, but Carl didn’t pick up on that. He leaned over across the table and licked it right off of his spoon. Monty could feel his face heating up and he prayed his hand wouldn’t shake.

Carl nodded as he returned to his position, unaffected by the atmosphere he accidentally created. “S’good.”

“Y-Yeah,” Monty broke out of his awkward stupor. “Yeah, it’s good.”

“I like mine better, though,” Carl said decidedly.

“Well mine didn’t have any gummy bears,” Monty pointed out, and they both laughed a little.

Their talking lulled to a natural stop. As comfortable as the silence was, Monty did want to quick start the conversation. He was hoping to learn more about Carl. That’s why he asked him out, after all. _Asked him out_ , he choked a little on his yogurt. He didn’t realize it before, but someone could totally interpret his offer as a date. Not that he minded, but he wished he came up with something a little more smooth.

“So how’s school treating you?” Monty recognized his mistake as the life drained from Carl’s face.

“Monty, as a fellow student, I can’t believe you asked the cursed question,” Carl shook his head disapprovingly. As Monty started laughing he broke character and laughed with him. “Honestly, it hasn’t been terrible. I’ve been balancing the workload with my internship well enough that I still manage to catch a few hours of sleep each night. My teachers are all really good, and while I’m still seen as a total nerd, everyone who’s in the nerd classes wanted to be there, so I’m in good company.”

“Yeah, I feel that. What’s your favorite class?” Monty asked, slowly annunciating his words, confident he had a winning question. And he was right, because Carl got caught up in telling him about all the advanced technology courses he was taking. Some of the programming he described made Monty’s head spin, but if he was ever so lost he couldn’t come up with a question to encourage him, he would just nod and make affirmative sounds. Sometimes he’d stuff his face so Carl would continue on his own.

Carl didn’t need a ton of persuading, though. He was obviously super passionate about the stuff. His eyes were sparkling and he would flap his hands as he talked. His movements and words slowed as he glanced out the window. “Oh my gosh, it’s getting dark, I’m so sorry, I must’ve talked for at least a-an hour.” He sounded embarrassed, but there was still an exhilarated blush streaking his face.

“Don’t apologize!” Monty waved him off. “It was actually really awesome to hear you talk about that stuff. Most people I know are under the impression that being uninterested in everything is the coolest thing you can do, but your passion? It’s like, inspirational. It makes me want to get my life together, ‘cause I wanna be passionate like that. I admire you, Carl.”

“I don’t know how you can say something like that with a straight face,” Carl glanced away, bashful and unsure, a small smile betraying him. He bit his lip to try and shake it. It made Monty’s breath catch in his chest and turn into butterflies.

“I mean it,” he barely whispered, still dealing with the effects of Cupid’s arrow. He repeated it with more conviction, “I mean it! I-“ he lost his train of thought as he remembered something, “Oh, Carl! I don’t have your number! Can we-?” He made a motion that he hoped would translate to exchange numbers. 

Carl nodded, with a little tok much glee to suggest just complacency, and told him his number. Monty put it in his phone as quickly as he said it, and sent him a little smiley face so Carl could save him number. Monty showed him the text on his own phone, “so you know it’s me!”

Carl laughed gently at his enthusiasm, standing up and grabbing both their cups. There was a small pool of melted yogurt in Carl’s, a single gummy bear floating in the murk. He threw them in the trash can, but as he walked back over he tripped over his own feet. Monty acted fast, catching him by his arms before he faceplanted. He eased him back into a standing position. He asked, “Are you alright?”

Carl stared up at him. “I’m gay.”

Monty blinked in surprise, but flashed him a grin. “What a coincidence, so am I.” 

“O-Okay! I meant okay!” Carl’s whole face went red. “I was going to say I’m _okay_ , but then I was going to say I’m _good_ -“

Monty laughed, letting go of his arms. “That kind of stuff happens to me all the time, don’t sweat it.”

“Alright, let’s go, I’ll give you a ride home,” Carl readjusted his glasses, too embarrassed to say more. Monty couldn’t wipe the smirk off his face. They walked out to his motorcycle, putting their helmets on and situating themselves on the bike. It was a shame they couldn’t hear each other over the sound of the engine and the whipping of the wind. Monty would’ve liked to have gotten to talk more. He wanted to hear about everything that put that uncontrollable happiness on Carl’s face, radiating straight from his heart. It was more attractive than he would have expected it to be.

Carl knew the way to the house from his visits for Monogram, so they got there without a hitch. Monty took off his helmet, hopping off the bike and running a hand through his hair. He could fix it when he was inside. Carl took off his helmet too, but he didn’t get off the motorcycle. He just waited.

“Thanks for the ride, and for hanging out with me,” Monty went in for a fistbump, but Carl was anticipating a highfive. They both switched at the same time, so Monty gave up. “Don’t forget to text me, alright? We need to talk more.”

Carl waved goodbye, putting his helmet back on and riding away. Monty whistled. It was a good look for him. As much as he would’ve liked to stand there a little longer and watch the shadow of him, it began to drizzle on him, so he headed inside. He hoped Carl would be safe in the rain, but caught himself before he started worrying. It was barely misting out. He was acting like an overprotective mother.

He threw off his shoes and flipped on the light switch. The house was, naturally, empty. He ran up the stairs two at a time to his room. He flopped down onto his bed, decompressing with a sigh. The last part of his day had been fun, but on the whole it was long and tiring. Dad was still nowhere to be found. He probably wouldn’t show up until after dinner. Maybe even later than that. Monty knew his work was important, but he could at least give him a heads up before disappearing all day. Before those thoughts turned bitter, Monty felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out and flipped it on.

_‘I still have your hoodie! I forgot I was wearing it D:’_

Monty looked down at himself, realizing he was still just in his t shirt. The sweatshirt had looked so good on Carl he didn’t even notice things were unusual. He sent a response, his fingers flying across the keyboard by muscle memory.

_’Its fine you can give it to me another time, you free Fried?’_

He frowned at his phone. He sent a correction.

_’*Friday’_

He put it down on his chest, glancing around the room in halfhearted search for something to preoccupy himself with when it buzzed again. He was not expecting such a fast response. But Carl was so meticulous and scheldule orientated, he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. It was nice to not be left hanging.

_‘Super free’_

He chuckled. Even over the phone, he could sense the excitement that Carl was trying to play off with the silly phrases he thought were cool. Monty briefly hesitated, but then sent his message with reckless abandon.

_’it's a date then’_

He could picture Carl on the other end, freaking out over him calling it a date. He might even drop his phone in his flustered panic. He wished he could’ve seen it. When Carl finally managed to text him back, he gave him a reason to smile, even as he fell asleep alone.

_’It's a date!’_


End file.
